


Blue

by Milotzi



Series: Ribbons and Bows [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Current Relationship(s), F/M, Past Relationship(s), Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-04-27 02:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14415363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milotzi/pseuds/Milotzi
Summary: When it comes to ribbons, the colour blue is a sign of high quality. However, when people are sad or depressed, they are also said to be blue. Last but not least blue is the colour of hope. Sometimes, however, blue is just be a colour, an optical trick, and what it is it is because of what we make of it.Severus and Hermione are spending their holidays abroad for the first time since they have been together when some unsettling news from Hogwarts arrives.When do you know it is time to quit?





	Blue

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place between different parts of[ chapter 6 of Ribbons and Beaux](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14169405/chapters/32708652). You do not read that work to get what is going on in this story.
> 
> I would like to mention that I have been inspired to write this by the fictional world of JKR and the amazing HP fanwork out there. I do not claim any originality whatsoever.

**Hogwarts, Scotland, July 27th**

Minerva McGonagall took a scrutinizing look round her now empty rooms and then checked her office for the last time. Nothing where it shouldn't be and nothing left behind that was hers personally. Two letters lay on her desk, one addressed to the Minister, the other to the staff and students of Hogwarts. Otherwise the desk was empty except for a neat stack of documents, with instructions what to do with them for her deputy and likely successor. No, not instructions, suggestions. This was not her responsibility any more. Neither was he. 

A final inspection of her desk drawer yielded a midnight blue ribbon Severus had given her. For the briefest of moments, Minerva considered tying the ribbon round the head's chair. She closed her eyes as the unbidden image of this exact ribbon tied around her naked ex-lover's straining prick arose in her mind. Enough. A wandless wordless spell later the ribbon had evaporated into thin air. She was done here. 

Minutes later, without saying anything to anybody, Minerva McGonagall was gone from the school she had run for so many years.

**Corfu, Greece, August 14th**

Severus Snape was humming contentedly along as the first bars of the _allegro con brio_ of Beethoven's fifth symphony thundered from the old CD player in the conservatory adjoining the bungalow they had rented. All windows were wide open; the sliding door that led to the little back garden was wide open, too. It hadn't been a glorious summer, weather-wise, and most other wizards would have at least added a warming spell if they had opened any windows at all. Severus, however, was used to the cold and the damp of the Hogwarts cellars so he didn't mind the temperature or the cool breeze and occasional raindrops that were blown his way. In their shared home, Hermione insisted that he smoke on their tiny balcony or go outside. On their vacations, however, she slightly relented as long as he did not smoke in the bedroom, the living room or the kitchen and as long as he let some air in and the smoke out. Having the luxury of lighting his fags as he sat in a comfortable chair with his feet stretched in what was basically a room while he was also listening to his favourite kind of music, sipping a drink or two, skimming through newspapers and various magical journals and taking notes when he thought he had come across something interesting felt fantastic even if his neck had become slightly stiff from the draft. He was currently enganged in translating, from the original Greek, an article on the interface of potions making and transfiguration that he was looking forward to discussing with Minerva. He was doing so himself with the help of a battered Greek-English dictionary, a habit he had developed when he found that the magical auto-translate spell that kept misinterpreting specialized terminology was unimprovable, even by Filius, who had given it his best shot. Also, he and Hermione had agreed this would be a non-magical holiday, since Hermione wanted to get in touch with her Muggle roots at least once a year. Severus felt quite virtuous. Unlike Minerva, Hermione did not enjoy competition that much; she had never actively taken part in Quidditch or any other competitive sport, had always been the best at everything anyway and couldn't see the point. But if they had been having a competition at doing things the non-magical way, he would be ahead. She had _reparo'_ ed a window pane the day before rather than call in a glazier. Severus lit another cigarette. There were about three more promising-looking articles in the new interdisciplinary journal he was planning on translating before the holiday was over. Maybe he and Minerva could discuss collaborating on an interdisciplinary study. Surely the world's foremost experts in transfiguration and potions (even if he said so himself) would have something to contribute to this very interesting debate the Greeks had started. Experimental work would be hard to fit in with their schedules as headmistress and deputy, especially since they both were also teaching classes, but it would be worthwhile. At worst, it would lessen the boredom he had lately felt when he thought of the stream of neverending administrative chores or the unabating stupidity and bloody-mindedness of students. Really, having Minerva to talk to continued to be one of the perks of his job.

Severus took no inconsiderable pride in having succeeded in staying friends with Minerva after she had lost interest in the physical side of their relationship and Hermione had decided that she wanted their affair to be more than a fling. Due to his Slytherin tactics of what to say when to which of the two Gryffindor lionesses in his life, what might have been an utter desaster had turned out to be a win-win situation for all concerned. Placing the meander pattern ribbon that had been tied around the lilies he had bought for Hermione on their first day in Corfu as a bookmark between the pages of his journal, Severus decided to call it a day. He was on vacation, after all. To counteract the extreme sweetness of the local kumquat liqueur he had been sipping, he lit another cigarette, a last one before he would go inside. Hermione was probably tidying the bedroom and he thought he might use his Slytherin wiles to persuade her to let him help her undo some of the work she had done. At least as far as the freshly made beds were concerned.

*******

Hermione had indeed moved from cleaning the bathroom to tidying the bedroom. She sighed. Even after being officially together for five years now, and a bit before that, and not regretting leaving her marriage at all, there were some things she would not ever get used to. One: his smoking. She could not understand how such an obviously brilliant mind as Severus could not quit that filthy habit when scientific proof was abundantly available how bad it was for your health and the health of people around you. Two: his messes. She was a neat person and would have expected him to be the same. He had been feared by generations of Hogwarts students because any speck of extra dust on their potions' equipment would set him off on a rant. She knew him to be supremely tidy in his potions classroom and potions cabinet and he was one of the few wizards she knew who could be trusted not to turn a kitchen into a battlefield but that did not translate into tidiness in the rest of his private life. Getting undressed always meant a heap of clothes on the floor, towels always ended up there, too. Ever so often an odd black sock turned up in the most peculiar places. Who took off their socks and dropped one on the floor and left the other on the hall table with his keys? A former spy should have had tidier habits, she thought. Severus's bedside table was hardly visible under the heap of books he was reading and the pile of, well, not to put too fine a point on it, rubbish from his coat and trouser pockets which he emptied there when they got too full. Tissues, coins, little bags of sugar, cinammon toothpicks, balls of string, a variety of ribbons, buttons, bolts, nails, nuts (metal but also edible ones on occasion), match boxes, cheap plastic cigarette lighters, ticket stubs (concert, cinema or theatre, once for the zoo), and crumpled up bills. And woe betide the person who tried to tidy up the place and removed a single thing. That had led to their first really bad row.  Funny, how her ex, who was prone to making messes of so many things and had frequently done so, including their marriage, funny how Ron had been so tidy. She had figured out it had to be all those siblings. What you left lying around was bound to be picked up by someone else and disappear. She surprised herself by having a fleeting sense of regret that he had not thought that a wife left unattended might be picked up by someone else, too. Although, if she was honest, which she always was, it had been her who had been doing the picking up.

*******

Hermione was chagrined. This. Was. So. Typical. As soon as she had tidied up, in he came and messed everything up. The place never stayed spotless for more than five minutes or so. Fine, brushing his teeth and taking a shower was a good idea, especially after he had spent the morning smoking like a chimney pot in the conservatory. But throwing himself on the bed she had just made and looking at her expectantly took the biscuit. When would he realize she wasn't a taxi he could call for services whenever he felt like it. She didn't have to be in the mood all the time. He looked at her quizzically, grinning slightly, with one eye-brow raised. Damn it, but she did like sex. And he was really good at it. Plus the raised eye-brow promised some extra naughty idea how to make her forget he had just destroyed her morning's work in one fell swoop. He raised the other eye-brow and she gave in. But he'd better make sure she had an orgasm or two before he came to make up for her having to tidy the bungalow twice in a day. Then she stopped thinking and gave herself up to the pleasure of his hand between her legs and his tongue in her mouth.

**Corfu, Greece, August 19th**

The owls arrived at the same time. Hermione was stacking the dishes into the dishwasher. In her earplugs the hits of her teenage years were blasting. The weather was still bad and she nearly didn't hear the owls pecking against the window pane as The Fugees' were rapping _Ready or Not_. She briefly wondered why the owls had not flown in through the open doors and windows of the conservatory. Probably too much smoke. Severus was, once more, sitting there translating some journal articles. A quick drying and heating spell later, three owls sat perched on the backs of kitchen chairs. Hermione placed a bowl of milk and a bowl with some of the minced lamb she had meant to use for cooking on the kitchen table in case they were hungry or thirsty. Then she looked at what they had brought. 

One owl was for her, a postcard from Disneyworld, where Ron and his new old girlfriend Padma had taken the kids. _Wish you were here_ , Hugo had written, and Rose had added _LOVE YOU MUM_ in pink capital letters surrounded by lots of hugs and kisses symbols. God, she missed them. The other two were sealed letters, one from Hogwarts addressed to Severus in a slightly splotchy heandwriting that looked only vaguely familiar, the other from the Ministry, surprisingly also addressed to Severus and not to her, in the Minister's handwriting. Something must have happened.

Severus had opened and perused first one, then the other letter, then gone visibly pale and stepped out into the garden and into the rain. He had not even noticed when Hermione, by now realizing that something was seriously wrong, had spelled an umbrella over him to keep him dry. "What's wrong, Severus?" she asked. It must concern Minerva or at least be something that was threatening the school if he was making a face like that. "What's happened at Hogwarts?"

"She's gone," he croaked, and for a horrible moment Hermione thought her former Head of House had died until he added, "Retired. Without a word to anybody. Just upped and gone. Left a letter to both the ministry and Hogwarts "staff and students" saying she was sorry to leave so abruptly and maybe at an inopportune moment but that she had decided that it was time to quit. She was fine but tired of the job and was going to take some of that vacation she was owed. She wished everyone well and was sure they would succeed in their endeavours if they only tried hard enough." He looked bitter and slightly shell-shocked. "She wrote all of that in the letter to all staff and students, which Neville Longbottom, as junior teacher in residence over the summer, has passed on to me with a note. Addressed to all staff. No mention of her deputy." He looked grim. "And this," he waved the other letter at her as if it was something distateful sticking to his hand that he could not shake off," is my call to duty from your boss. What with 'the extraordinary situation', 'the little time left before term starts' and my 'experience and excellent record' I have been tasked with taking over as headmaster. Again."

**Hogwarts, Scotland, September to June**

So Severus Snape had returned to a position he had never planned on occupying ever again. Of course he had been able to take over without any incident and the school year had passed smoothly. Of course he had been able to overcome the few dark memories that had surfaced. After all, he had been deputy for such a long period of time that that the year before the Battle of Hogwarts had lost most of its power over his emotions. If only the whole thing wasn't so stiflingly boring. If only he did not miss Minerva so much. 

He still could not believe that she had left without even a single word or gesture to him, not then, not since. He had even taken to searching her former rooms and office for hidden messages as well as the various nooks and crannies they had used to leave notes to each other when they had started their affair, in those long-ago days when she had felt unsatisfied enough in her marriage to start a fling with a fairly new teacher. Nothing. As if he and she had ceased to exist in the same universe. It was embarassing that he had had to take up tea with Pomona and Poppy to pick up some scraps of informaton on how she was. Fine, apparently. Travelling, apparently. Considering retiring to the Highlands but not yet, apparently.

Hermione hadn't been very understanding or supportive. "Why so glum? You have finally achieved the recognition you would have deserved much earlier. She was holding you back", she had argued and not understood why he had told her to shut up. She also kept complaining about his bad mood and had hinted more than once that other men found her much more attractive than he seemed to lately. Let her. He had realized some time ago that he really did not care one way or the other. Not about her. He picked up a Ravenclaw hair band from the ground and stared at it for a while before moving on to the headmaster's box on the stands. Even Quidditch games had lost their flavour since there was no one to bet with. Games were becoming as unbearable as the endless hours of dinner at the high table. Not that they had talked that much in the past years, as he now realized, but he had always been able to count on Minerva to see what was amusing in a given situation when no one else had. And what with his administrative work load, there was simply no way he could do potions research of any kind. Even if he had had any ideas what kind of research to do, he wouldn't have had the time. Sadly he thought of the pile of notes on potential research questions he had been going to discuss with Minerva. 

After two months as headmaster, Severus had placed a map of the world on his bedroom wall, well hidden by a curtain in case Hermione paid a visit. Whenever Poppy or Pomona had dropped a hint about a spa Minerva was visiting or a city from which a postcard had arrived, Severus would take a look to see where that place was on the map. He himself had not had the chance to see much of the world, a few cities he and Minerva had visited together, a few conference locations and that one holiday abroad with Hermione, in Corfu. As he perused the map, he had looked at different places on different continents and started imagining what it would be like to go there, to see these strangely named countries, cities, mountains, rivers, lakes just as he had done when looking at his Dad's old school atlas when he was a small boy. After Christmas, he began going through alphabetical lists of exotic sounding place names in his mind when a staff meeting proved to be especially tedious: _Azerbaijan, Bali, Cyprus, Dubai, Ecuador, Florence, ..._ As Neville Longbottom, who had shown himself to be a capable deputy if a bit scatterbrained, was droning on about the necessary rotation of staff supervisory duties during next year's Hogsmeade visit, Severus had reached _Vienna, Wyoming, Xenia Creek, Yemen, and Zimabwe_. Since Neville was still not done, Severus began another list, _Antigua, Belize, China, ..._ And so forth. And so forth.

**Troncones, Mexico, March 14th**

Severus Snape had packed his suitcase. Later this day, a local bus was going to take him further on his trip; he knew he wanted to see more of the interior of Mexico. 

The previous evening, Severus Snape had been standing on the balcony of his hotel room, thought about the great week he had had here and once more admired the stunning view: the yellow sandy beach was bordered by an azure ribbon of sea. Above the sea, the sky was turning into a colour that was between Madder and Gryffindor red. In one hand he was holding a cigar, which was even better than the one he had smoked in Havana; in the other hand he was holding an iced bottle of Corona, and he had felt as free as he had never felt before.

This morning, too, the view from the balcony was spectular: both the sea and the sky shone in shades of bright blue. He sipped his morning coffee and, in his pocket, felt the silky texture of the satin ribbon he had bought earlier as a souvenir, kept on his bedside table and had nearly forgotten to pack. _Qué bonita cinta azul_ , a young girl in the shop had said when she saw what he was buying. He pulled it out and looked at its colour, blue like the morning sky, a colour that suggested a new day, full of possibilites. He must not forget to put it into the wash bag that he had emptied of toiletries so he could keep the ribbons that he had started to collect dry and clean among his stuff. The ribbons he was going to take home to Minerva when the time was right. 

**_The Manse_ , near Caithness, Scottland, October, 3rd, a few years later**

Owls were arriving at Minerva McGonagall's old home all day. Minerva was not looking forward to her birthday. At least this year no one was going to make a fuss. People had sent cards: Filius and Pomona had written from their cottage in Cornwall, Hagrid, Sybill and Pomona as well as some of the younger teachers had written from Hogwarts. Former students had sent their congratulations. Neville Longbottom, who had been headmaster for more years now than she cared to admit, had also written, from a conference in Malibou. Finally, Clarice had written from Ilvermorny to discuss next year's _IATWW_ ( _International Associaton of Teachers of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ ) convention and had hinted she was going to be awarded a prize. More fuss. She sighed. Clarice had also sent a new handbook on interdisciplinary transfiguration and potions research for her to review for _The Transfiguration Journal_ . What a shame, really, that this kind of interdisciplinary research had not yet been obvious as the rewarding kind of academic endeavour it was when she and Severus had still taught together. She skimmed the pages and took a closer look at the recommended literature section. At least a few of her own articles and Severus's potions monograph were listed. Severus. She had decided that it did not matter anymore how upset she still was when she thought about his having left her for the second time all those years ago. She wished him well. She wished there was a way of finding out how he was but no one had mentioned his name to her since he had left Hogwarts so suddenly a year after she had retired. Maybe Hermione Weasley-Granger (or whatever she was calling herself these days) would have something to say about his whereabouts if she actually looked her up during that visit to Scotland that she had mentioned in her letter.

Just before bedtime, Minerva took a leisurly stroll in her garden. Before going back inside, she lit her daily cigarette. She looked up into the dark night sky interpunctuated with tiny yellow flecks of starlight and the thin silver crescent moon. As she exhaled, a blue ribbon of smoke made its way upwards towards the night sky. Maybe somewhere out there Severus, too, was having a smoke and, like her, was sending a blue ribbon of smoke towards the sky, just as they had been doing whenever they had run into each other in those early days, when they both had detoured from their allocated night patrols for a quick smoke on the rooftop of the astronomy tower. Maybe somewhere out there, he was thinking of her, too.

**From the introduction to _Transpotions. A New Approach to Advanced Magic_ by Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape, published a few years later, and republished in new editions regularly since**

_Traditional witchcraft and wizardry believed in keeping magical subjects separate once they had developed. Soon disciplinary ossification set in, In the past decade or so, many scholars and scientists of magic have engaged in groundbreaking scholarship that showed the potential of interdisciplinary research by crossing the subject boundaries of established magical fields of research. Especially the conjunction of Transfiguration Studies and Potions proved fruitful. In the present volume, we will not only give yet another overview over the robust research area that has emerged and present our own research findings related to this development but , on the basis of our research, we will argue for a new approach. What we refer to as **Transpotions** should be seen as a separate subject distinct from Transfiguration Studies and Potions and distinct from research that is interdisciplinary. We would like to add a word of warning, Transpotions involves crossing a line in a scholar's or scientist's understanding of what magic is or is not and once that line has been crossed, there is no way back. What has been seen cannot become unseen. That said, this has been the case in all muggle and magical research endeavours since the first human started asking questions about the nature of life. We strongly believe that we need to follow where science takes us. We would like to invite the magical research community to join us on this path by rigorously testing both our results and our assumptions concerning Transpotions._

**Author's Note:**

> Hermione Granger did, after a few more detours, end up back with her husband, who, I am glad to report, never again treated her as someone he could afford not to pay attention to. Maybe sometimes age does make a person wiser or Ronald Weasley was simply a very late starter in matters of conjugal happiness.


End file.
